The Rise of Darkness- 69th Hunger Games SYOT
by danceposh
Summary: SYOT CLOSED!-The newest Head Gamemaker Karayan Cethin is a dark and deluded man, and only one like him could create an arena like this. The tributes must face the black of interminable night, beasts lurking in the shadows, and each other. It is up to you to create the tributes who will face night and themselves through hurt, passion, death, and victory.
1. Opening Statements and Tribute Form

**Head Gamemaker Karayan Cethin**

Let me introduce myself. I am Head Gamemaker Karayan Cethin, and my name means "dark". That's exactly what I had in mind when I thought up the magnificent world that will be our arena for my first year upon the job. I spent hours in my laboratory, black eyebrows scrunched, thinking of what to do, just what to do. Then, one dreary evening, I saw the solution. Figuratively, though, because you can't see darkness.

Fire will illuminate the Cornucopia. Fire will be the light of hope in my arena, my creation. This blackened world is my creation. I want them, them meaning my tributes, to kill for fire. Fire is life in my creation. What is attracted to fire? My pets, beady eyes reflecting flames, will be starving for the kill.

Being a Gamemaker, especially the Head, is an irresolute job to beseech. My life is never safe; if I make a mistake I am no more. Karayan Cethin, being the young, dark man that I am, does not make mistakes. President Snow will see this, and he will love me. They will all love me. You will love me.

Unfortunately, my tributes will not love me, for I will sic upon them monstrous beasts that only the darkness can see. But I do not desire their lifeless love. I only want yours.

Among my tributes there will be a victor. The strongest, the smartest, and the blood-thirstiest will rise amid the weak. Only those who can see the darkness will emerge a victor. Can you?

**President Coriolanus Snow**

Karayan Cethin is a strange, almost deluded man. He has gone mad at a young age, and I accept him. He is a maniac, and I admire him. He is dark, and I have high hopes for him.

These games will be a fantastic opener for Cethin's career and an enjoyable one for us, if all goes well. The children will run in fear into vast pits of obscure nothingness to find a beast awaiting their presence. Their screams are music to my ears. They remind me that not all hope is lost in Panem.

I want fascinating tributes this year. Of course, it is always a pleasure to see the weak and the ignorant fall, but I hope to see some strong hopefuls as well. They are the ones who deserve life.

Can they find life in darkness?

I hope so.

**Welcome to my SYOT! I hope you will submit a tribute and watch them go through the games. Both of District 8 and female from 10 are reserved for friends, but all others are open as of 11-12-12! Please PM me with your other entries. I will not take them through reviews... apologies. I will randomly choose the order of the tributes' fate. Please submit and I will keep writing!**

**FORM:**

**Name:**

**Age: **

**District:**

**Personality traits: **

**Physical appearance: **

**Background:**

**Romance before the games?: **

**Family/Friends:**

**Reaped or volunteered?**

**Reaction?:**

**Weapon(s) of Choice:**

**Allies (if any; gender and number are appreciated):**

**Strategy:**

**3 Strengths:**

**3 Weaknesses:**

**Token (if any, feel free to leave blank):**

**Interview approach (witty, funny, arrogant, etc.): **

**Outfits for Reaping, Chariot, Interview:**

**Romance in the arena?:**

**Any more information?: **

**Thank you! Happy Hunger Games!**

**-E**


	2. District 1 Reaping

**GLACE DEBAY, DISTRICT 1**

I woke up to the sunrise filtering itself through my curtains. I knew that it was Reaping day, but I felt oddly happy. It was early, but I went ahead and brushed out my long, platinum blonde hair and then I secured it in a bun. My dress that I put on was simple and white, and over it I had a light blue sweater and matching heels. My parents weren't awake yet; it was too early. Really, I didn't know why I felt happy on that day. The Hunger Games have always been a melancholy occasion for my family and me. My brother died 10 years ago in a hopeful second place, and my, um, friend Victoria died last year in the Games. The odds were not looking favorable for anyone associated with me.

I walked downstairs into the kitchen. I ate some nougat until I heard a knock on my door. Of course, it was my best and only friend Alcee, who my parents notoriously call "the early riser". "Hey!" She hugged me and I smiled. Okay, I'll just be honest. I like boys and girls, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. My dad does, though, and when he found out I was dating Victoria he flipped out. I don't like Alcee that way. I like her and all, but she's incredibly gawky and I don't find her attractive.

"Ready for the Reaping?" I chomped on the nougat as I sat down on the couch beside her. "I guess so. I just hope both of us are safe." "Don't worry." I said as my mom came down the stairs in her bathrobe. "Morning Glace, Alcee." "Hi, mom." "Hi, Mrs. DeBay." My mom has been very over-protective of me since my brother died. She doesn't let me stay out past 10:00 or let me go to any new hangout spots. Neither does my dad, and not because he's over-protective, he just doesn't like the thought of me doing anything with girls. He accepts Alcee for the fact that she is a total klutz.

My dad walked down the stairs, and he looked furious. "Glace!" He stormed over to the couch. My already large, ice blue eyes widened. "What?" "How could you?" He held out a slip of paper. My love note from Victoria before she died.

"You were snooping in my room!" I stood up and grabbed the slip. Alcee scooted back. She knew I rarely got angry, and if I did it was for good reason. "Well, yes! If I knew I would've found this I would've snooped sooner!" My dad is a small guy. I am not big, but I trained myself in karate and even though I didn't think he would hurt me, I planned a counterattack. "Dad! This is who I am! Accept it, or… Or…" I ran out of words. Then, before I could do my counterattack, he snatched the carefully written, sentimental love note and ripped it up into tiny shards.

I gasped. "Dad!" I don't cry. I'm not a crier. But I felt like it then. Victoria poured her love out to me on that note. It was all I had left of her. My dad stood there with a smug look on his face. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to make him feel guilty. I wanted him to feel responsible. And I knew just how to do it.

As soon as we walked silently down to the square, our escort Ephraim, a tall, blue man, went over to the girls' bowl. I knew there were other girls wanting to volunteer; I just had to be first. "Our girl tribute is…" Ephraim opened the slip, which reminded me of Victoria's… "Ly-"

"I volunteer!" I didn't even recognize my own voice; it sounded strong and undeniably victorious. I walked onto the stage without controlling my feeble legs. My mom was crying, and my dad looked confused. I held my head high and waited for the remorse feeling that I knew I would get as soon as the brash one faded.

I didn't have to wait that long.

**DRAKON MASTELIA, DISTRICT 1**

I woke up to the all-familiar smell of roses. It sounds feminine, even though I am not, but I am an expert floriculturist. I am also a genius, but no one sees past my large and quite muscly exterior. As soon as I got out of bed, I checked on my blooms. They were doing well, of course, because I have an emerald thumb. That's what my parents call it, anyways. All that they have on their minds most of the time are fashion and luxuries.

I looked on the calendar besides my in-room greenhouse. Reaping Day was marked in red letters. Ah, Reaping day. It was that time of year again. I sighed as I looked through my ever-growing (due to my parents' fashion obsession) collection of clothes. I picked out a black suit with a tie to match my eyes. The Reapings here in District 1 are pretty swanky occasions. I do not understand or agree with any of it, but I am forced to participate.

My brother Ammolite was inevitably Reaped a few years back. I remember the day well as it was only a mere four years ago. I stopped in front of the mirror for a quick glance before I headed down to the square. Oh, yes, did I not mention my eyes? Well, my eyes are the color of a fresh, silky rose. Some argue that it is the color of molting blood, but I could care less about what those imbeciles think. I am a pretty caring person, but sometimes the oppression from my peers gets to me, even if I would like to say it hasn't.

I brushed through my neatly trimmed light brown hair before I walked downstairs. I thought that my parents were probably at the square already chatting with aristocrats about their new line of faux fur. I started walking; our penthouse is only a few blocks from the central business district of downtown District 1. It took me just a few minutes to reach the square, full and alive with colorful people decked in jewels and fur. It wasn't as eccentric as the Capitol, yes, but I do find it obnoxious even if my parents wholeheartedly comply.

The other 16-year-olds were conversing as well. Most of us see this as an average occasion, and it is hardly frightening to me. Death is not frightening to me. Nonetheless, the idea of sending children into the arena for reimbursement for the Rebellion is so very, very cruel. I found a group of half-friends (which is all I have for the fact that I am intimidating and somewhat morbid) from our training school and we began talking about who will most likely be chosen. I don't care, really, but it was something to talk about.

"Welcome!" Ephraim, the bald, blue skinned escort, piped. "Ladies' first!" He was standing over the bowl and I watched his sapphire fingers grab a slip. "Our girl tribute is…" He hesitated for one moment. "Ly-" "I volunteer!" The voice came from the 15-year-old section. The girl was a white-blonde haired beauty who I did not know. Of course, volunteers are not uncommon here. It was just peculiar to me why one would voluntarily participate. For pride, because if you think you are good enough to volunteer and win, don't you already have enough?

"Oh, a volunteer! How nice. Your name, dearest?" Ephraim held the microphone towards her. "Glace. Glace DeBay." She sounded weaker than she had when she volunteered. Still, she was shimmering and gorgeous, not unlike many of the girls here. Most of them who are in my grade either think of me as a teddy bear sort or they are scared of me. I do not understand it, but I do not feel sorry for me. One thing I despise is sympathy. I want no one to ever pity me.

By the time I was done talking to myself, Ephraim was holding the next slip in his hands. "And joining Glace will be…" He opened the slip in an agonizingly slow manner. "Drakon Mastelia."I heard shrieks from the audience which I assume came from my parents. I didn't move; my bones were frozen, but not out of fear. The noise of the stomping Peacekeepers got me moving. I joined Glace upon the stage, and I saw my mom cry. Yes, they spent a lot a time at work since their fashion empire was so successful, but they cared for me. Especially since Ammolite passed.

I guess they assumed that I was going to share his fate. However, I have a say in that.

**Hello everyone! Hope you liked the first Reaping. I'm trying my best! I still have a few spots to fill; the most imperative being both for 3 and 5. Hopefully D2 will be up tomorrow. Thanks for all of your support!**


	3. District 2 Reaping

**RAINE "TRACE" ALEXANDER, DISTRICT 2**

I was still awake when the sun decided to peep through my open window. You'd think the average 13-year-old girl who lives on the "bad side" of District 2 would be paranoid, but I don't care. Anyone could crawl through my window and I wouldn't care. I'm not depressed, even though I look and act like it sometimes. I'm just a little disoriented, and I think I deserve to be. Not that I care what other people think, but it is unnerving every now and then.

I never sleep on the night before the Reaping. I'm not scared of the Hunger Games, though. I'm scared of what could happen; the losers (like my late brother) die and are forgotten and the victors (like my father) get depressed and may start drinking. Most of the time, he doesn't know where he is at or who he is with. All he wants is another drink. My mother is my favorite person in the entire world. She actually cares about me. I don't know why she stays with my abusive dad, but I can't run away and leave her here. Not alone with him.

First, I slipped on a pair of cargo pants, a blue tee shirt, and a pair of old sneakers. Then, I brushed out my hair. I have long, naturally black hair with messy bangs I cut myself one lonely evening. They are slanted and the fringe hangs over my left eye. After that, I sat and pulled out my songbook. (Yes, that's another emo-like quality I seem to possess.) The tough, macho kids around here always tease me about it. It's apparently not enough that I am already very small for my age with a petite build and barely any muscle. That's an uncommon occurrence compared to the rough-and-tough persona of District 2 kids.

I wrote a few lines before I could hear commotion through my window. I closed my book and tucked it in my pocket. I got up and walked past my parents' room. They were sound asleep, and Dad actually looked peaceful. I decided to go ahead down to the square. Dad wouldn't let Mom go to the Reaping anyways. I walked onto the streets of our stale, dirty apartments. We used to be able to afford better, but Dad spent everything we had on booze. There were four kids who lived in this building standing in the next alleyway.

"Hey! Trace!" The 17-year-old girl who lives upstairs called to me. "Hi Remy." The girl approached me. "You better get down to the square. Your cousin called out for you." Remy said mockingly. She and her brusque posse often teased me for being a mouse. I nodded and took off running down the confusing path of alleyways I often run down to get to downtown. This is my second year being entered into the Reaping.

I finally made my way down to the town square. All kids, rich and poor, were plastered everywhere. I found my cousin in the group with the 17-year-olds. "Devon!" I called out. My cousin is pregnant, which is common for teenagers on the bad side of town. She was due in a week or two. "Trace, help me! I am having terrible cramps." She was bent over while taking big breaths. "Here, it's okay. It should be over in a minute." I held her hand and prayed that she wouldn't have her baby now as our escort walked to the front of the stage.

"Hello, everyone. Let us begin." Our escort Brumlia, a short, fat, pink woman, hobbled over to the girls' bowl. "Okay, our girl for the Games is…" She read the note. "Devon Alexander!" I gasped, long and clear. No, not Devon! She's near the end of her pregnancy! The Peacekeepers started marching our way. "No! I volunteer! I volunteer!" I was choking on my own spit, and I sounded like I couldn't get any weaker. "A volunteer?" Brumlia hissed. I nodded and walked to the stage. Devon was sobbing. "Name, please?" Brumlia held the microphone to me. Even she was taller than I was.

"Trace Alexander." I stood as tall as I possibly could, even though I knew my fate. I _am_ a Career though. Maybe I could last a while. All I knew then was that I was going to die.

**WREN DAVIS, DISTRICT 2**

The moment I opened my eyes I saw her picture. Beautiful dark eyes, luscious brown hair, and deep skin. My mother was the most beautiful woman to ever live, and she died from disease eleven years ago when I was only 6 years old. I live alone with my father in a shabby apartment building in the alleys of District 2. My dad is never home, though. He works at the masonry double-shift to make enough to support us. I ran and looked out the window. Jack, my best friend, was waiting outside with some other kids who live in the building that go to the training academy with us. I hopped out of bed to get changed. Today was the Reaping day.

I never get dressed up for the Reaping. People who dress fancy around here are scarce, and not just because the idea is stupid (because it is). Nobody can afford stuff here like District 1 does. They give Careers a snooty, stick-up-our-asses stereotype. I hate that, because where I live, we are tough and cool, and that's how we like it. I slipped on a dark blue tee shirt and a pair of dark, worn-in slacks. As I walked outside to meet Jack, I fixed my shaggy brown hair in the mirror. I look a bit like my mom, except not nearly as beautiful. I stuck my mom's picture in my pocket before heading out of the apartment.

"Wren! Hey, man!" My buddy Jack waved me over. "Hey guys." I joined the group of three. "Hey. Guess what Remy force-fed her brother last night?" A guy named Gray who I didn't know very well spoke out. "It was hilarious!" The girl named Remy guffawed. That's how most of the girls act on this side of town. I don't care much for that attitude on a girl. In my book, it's pretty unattractive for a girl to be masculine. Then, Remy directed her attention to behind me. I looked and saw the cute little teenage girl who lived above me. Remy said something about a cousin, and Trace, that was the girl's name, took off running.

"We waiting for the Fuzz?" I said. I was referring to a little game we often played on Reaping day just because we were rowdy. Right before the Reaping, the Peacekeepers make a lap around to make sure no kids are still home. They find and chase us, and we run. It's kind of enjoyable. "Nah, I don't feel like it." Remy, the presumed leader of the posse, said as she started walking. Gray, Jack, and I followed her. It was strange to me that Remy was ordering us around, but I'm not going to lie: that girl had twice the muscles that I did.

We got to the square just as the fat pink lady was picking from the girls' bowl. "Devon Alexander!" That lady sounded like a freaking hyena when she talked. Capitol people grossed me out. "No! I volunteer! I volunteer!" I looked to see who the volunteer was. There were always volunteers here. I was even thinking about volunteering myself.

It was Trace, the volunteer, I mean. I wasn't surprised because everyone always said she was emo. Jack tapped my shoulder. He whispered, "Wren! Remy dares you and Gray to see who can volunteer first." I scrunched my eyebrows. "What about you?" "Come on, man. You know Remy and I have a thing." I looked behind the large group of brawny kids for my father. At work, no doubt. He always is, and even though he's trying to provide for us, he knows I am always home alone. I guess it wouldn't matter to him anyways.

"Okay, time for the men!" The pink woman staggered her fat little body to the next bowl. She reached inside and grabbed a slip… "Ja-" "I volunteer!" The echo of Gray's voice came right after mine. I marched up to the stage beside Trace, who I knew I could easily strangle. When I volunteered first, I felt as if I actually won something.

I could easily think of something else that I could win.

** Hello again everyone! Hope District 2 suits your fancy… (Did I really just say that?) Anyways, I haven't even started on 3's yet, because I procrastinate like mad. I have a super-busy day tomorrow, so if I don't have it up then it will be up Friday for sure**. **I have 5 more slots to fill; if anyone is interested PM me please! Thanks for the support, as always. **


	4. District 3 Reaping

**ALICE "STATIC" MAGNESIUM, DISTRICT 3**

My alarm clock that I made of lights and wire zapped into a dazzling circle of bright bulbs precisely on cue. I sprang out of my lumpy bed, yelling "Finally!" while flailing my arms and jumping around. Demetrius, who was practically my brother, walked into my cubicle with a sleepy look on his face. "Static, what's going on?" "Look what I finally got! It turned on right at 7:00!"

Demetrius, who I often call my mentor, came over and inspected my contraption. "You know, it would be brighter if you used CO-2 capsules instead of these bulky ones." I flopped down on my bed exasperated from the exertion it took to jump around. "I couldn't find any around this place, Mr. Know-It-All." He smiled at me and said, "Well, I'll go wake up the gang. Get dressed, would ya?" I nodded and went to the box where I kept my few outfits. I picked up my nicest tee shirt and put it on, and I kept on my jeans that I wear almost every day. I live in a community home here in District 3. My sister Eliza was a victim to the dirty District 2 brutes in the Games four years ago. My mother committed suicide shortly after, and my dad was killed by Peacekeepers in a random citizen attack at the factories (they have those here).

Demetrius is family to me, as are the most of the other kids who live here. We don't have much, but we take care of each other. It's today, the Reaping Day, that worries me. There are over fifty kids who live here, and odds are that sometime one of us is going to get chosen. I combed by light brown hair into a ponytail with a comb I made out of dried electrical compound paste before I walked into the main room of the home.

"Hey, guys." I said cheerily. Gala, the oldest girl in the house, said, "Hey, Static. What was up with all that noise you made in there?" I smiled and said, "Nothing. I just finally mastered my latest experiment." "Very interesting," Ollie, one of the younger kids, muttered. I rolled my eyes and Demetrius said, "We'd better get walking. Don't want the Peacekeepers after us."

We strode the mile or so in single file to the city square. Our square was very steely and high-tech, and there were many kids who stood waiting for the escort, whose name was Pilaf. She was a shiny orange lady with blue hair that was riveted into two side buns. "Welcome to the Reaping, everyone. Women first." Pilaf was standing over the bowl before my mind caught up with my surroundings. She was reading the name just as I realized that she had already retrieved a slip. "Alice Magnesium." Alice was what my parents called me before my nickname Static caught on. That was what froze me; the insidious death awaiting me was irrelevant to my racing mind.

I was pushed along by Gala, who had bent over the steel separator bar that split up our age subdivisions. She wasn't going to volunteer for me. I knew someone who loved me enough to do just that, but he wasn't a girl. At least I didn't think so.

I heard the Peacekeepers marching behind me and I forced myself onto the platform. I looked around to find him, my last hope. He smiled and mouthed, "It'll be okay."

**DEMETRIUS SILVERSTREET, DISTRICT 3**

The word "Finally!" woke me up out of a deep and hazy slumber. The first thing I did was reach for my specs, which I was blind without. Ollie, the youngest boy here, was curled up beside me in the fetal position under the scratchy wool blanket that I brought from my old house. My parents died a long time ago, and I was placed into the community house. I soon grew to love the other inhabitants.

Since I am the second oldest of the house (I am 15, Gala is 17), I am a very fatherly figure to the other kids who live here. We always stay together, especially on days like the Reaping. I tucked little Ollie back in. He was too young to understand the Reaping. We just said that we were going on a field trip.

I walked into Static's little corner. She was bouncing around like a caffeinated squirrel. "Static, what's going on?" I rubbed my gunky eyes. She told me that her light alarm that she had been working on had prevailed success. I mentioned an improvement just to tease her. I am two years older than her, but we moved into the house around the same time. She is the closest thing I had to family at that time, and I loved her.

I told her to get dressed and I went to do the same. I slipped on a white tee shirt and a maroon sweater over my everyday jeans. We didn't really have much, but it didn't matter. We were all brought here by a sense of abandon and we were all connected by a feeling of hope. I quickly ran my fingers through my shaggy blonde hair and I wiped my glasses clean. I walked into the main room, where Gala was sitting with Ollie and the others playing around with my chess board.

Static walked in, looking cute as always. I'd like to say I didn't have a crush on her, because we did have a brother-sister relationship. Still, she was smart and easygoing, and I liked that about a girl. I've never actually had a girlfriend, mostly because I'm awkward and gangly. I'm also considered "homeless", and typically, girls don't like that. Static didn't care, because we were just alike.

I could never tell her that I felt something for her. I taught her about electricity and wiring, so I could also be her teacher along with her brother. A relationship with that going on was just wrong, but really, does love know bounds? To clear my mind, I told the group that we had better head down to the square. We started walking in single file behind me. Even Gala looked up to me, because I was a leader.

We reached the square in time for the drawings. Pilaf, the escort, went over to grab a girls' slip. I hoped it wasn't Gala, Static, or any of the other girls who lived in the house. Of course, it had to be the one that I loved most. "Alice Magnesium." I watched her shaky little body walk onto the platform. I wanted to volunteer for her as badly as I could, but I wasn't allowed. I prayed Gala would, but I knew she was too selfish. Weak, sweet little Static only had one hope.

"Now time for the boys." Pilaf strutted to the other bowl, and I knew what I was going to do. I touched Ollie's head through the separator bar, and even though he was young, he was intuitive about my actions. I guess my love for Static was clearly visible. She found me in the crowd, and I told her it would be okay. It would all be okay…

Pilaf drew a neatly folded slip. "Jo-" "I volunteer! I volunteer." My voice sounded oddly like I imagined Perseus's would be if I could've witnessed his amazing feats. At that moment in ever-moving time, I was powerful and ready to slay some Gorgons.

I joined Static on the floating platforms. We shook hands, and I told her once again that it would be okay. Now that I could be with her, I meant it.

**Hey everyone! I happened to find a few free moments to write, edit, and post this. I hope everything is okay because I was kind of pressed for time, but I am going to try to be consistent with my updating. I am really starting to get attached to these tributes, and I can't imagine killing any of them! (Even Wren, haha.) For those of you wondering, I need a District 5 male! Thanks for reviewing and supporting, and see you tomorrow with the fishing district's tributes. **

**And by the way, if you Googled CO-2 capsules, I just made that up. **


	5. District 4 Reaping

**ISLERA HALSEY, DISTRICT 4**

"Islera! It's time to prepare yourself for the Reaping!" My mother's thick European accent woke me from my torpor. I fell asleep at my desk in the midst of reading The Masque of the Red Death for the umpteenth time. I got up and waltzed to my closet. I chose a long, purple Victorian-inspired dress to go along with my signature top hat that was embroidered in frilly lace and lavender roses. I twisted my long, dirty blonde hair into an updo and I applied a bit of shimmer to my violet eyes. Before I left, I scrawled a note with my favorite pen onto the headboard of my bed, as I always do on special days. This I knew would be a special day.

_Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none._ I wrote in delicate letters across the slick surface. "Islera! You must hurry!" My mom, dressed in a long black skirt and white frill-neck blouse, appeared in my doorway. "Alright, Mother." I threw my pen into my dress pocket and I hurried outside of our Victorian-era mansion. Angelo was outside talking to my younger twin siblings Lock and Anastasia. Angelo was my best friend in the entire world, and I knew he would soon be my boyfriend. In my somewhat deluded mind he already was.

"Angelo!" I called, hiking up my skirt to my knees and running. "Oh, hello Islera. We were just talking about the book club." I proceeded to smooth my skirt down and formally join the conversation. "Yes, I was thinking about reading Macbeth again, you know, in honor of Hezekiah." Angelo nodded at my comment. "Yes, I do need a refresher. Especially since today is the morbid anniversary of him being Reaped." Angelo was right. Today was, in fact, the anniversary of the beginning of the end of Hezekiah North, the finest literature enthusiast around. He was also our esteemed book club leader, and at the prime age of 18 he was sentenced to a cruel death in the Hunger Games.

"It was the District 1 girl who killed him in the final hours." Anastasia fiddled nervously with her antique locket as she spoke. "Wouldn't it be nice to avenge him? To do like the works say to do and fight for your loved ones?" Lock looked at me with his large green eyes. Angelo and I nodded. We stood in silence and thought about what Lock had said. Wouldn't it be nice to get one over on our presumed "allies"? Yes, actually. I had thought about it before, but it never seemed feasible. Feasibility grew more with time, it seemed.

We piled into the Royce and we all drove in silence to the eastern part of District 4. The smell of dead fish hit my senses. Anastasia wrinkled her pert nose. Soon, we pulled into the city circle and Lock and Anastasia went to the younger section. Angelo and I walked over to meet our friends from the book club, Valentine and Braxton. We said our hellos, and I spoke up about the plan. "Guys, I was thinking about volunteering. You know, for Hezekiah. I think it would be nice just to seek revenge on the District 1, um, how do you say, turds?" I laughed in spite of myself, but my three eloquent friends did not seem amused. "No, you can't," Valentine tossed her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Yes I can. And I will." Before she could reply, Kikora, our escort stepped onto the sea-themed stage.

"Hello, hello! Welcome to the Reaping. Ladies' first." Kikora pranced to the large bowl containing the girls' names. "Our female tribute this year is…" She opened the slip that she picked. "Am-" "I volunteer!" I yelled loudly, but still lady-like. Some of the beachy girls who live on this side of town snickered at me. I didn't really know what I was doing, because my life was fantastically perfect, and I was happy then. Still, I wanted to even the score with District 1. I happen to believe in fairness.

"Yes, a volunteer!" Kikora helped me onto the stage. I told my name to her, and I found Angelo in the crowd. He looked at me with his dark, piteous eyes, and I knew that he wasn't going to volunteer for me. I am decently intelligent, you know. Still, I recognized that I could hold my own for the fishy district that I call home. You better watch out for me, District 1, because as Friedrich Nietzsche famously said, _"In revenge and in love, woman is more barbarous than man_."

**ELLIOT MCNAMARA, DISTRICT 4**

My alarm buzzed. The fluorescent red screen said 8:00. I let my flaccid hand hit the snooze, but then I remembered it was Reaping day. I leisurely got out of bed, and then I walked to my closet. I picked out a pair of tan slacks and a gray t-shirt and put them on with no hurry. I put on my brown sneakers and my signature leather jacket while I combed my bright scarlet hair to the side. I am one of the rare District 4 gingers. People here don't seem to appreciate the rare.

I walked out of my tenement and onto the street to meet the fishy smell of my wondrous district. I am 18 now, and I moved out of my parents' house just a month ago. I love the freedom. The sun was floating in a cloudy, mellow pink sky and it was beautiful. Speaking of beautiful…

There she is. Amelia Fawcett stood at the bus stop, bronze skin glowing in the dim sunlight. She lives in the flat two floors up from mine with her parents. Luckily, they weren't with her. I sauntered to the bus stop and I leaned against the sign. "He-" I slipped and fell onto the pavement.

How embarrassing! I am so clumsy! Amelia laughed and brushed her long blonde hair back with her hand. "Hi, Elliot." She helped me up and I composed myself. "Hey." I said sheepishly. The bus pulled up and she got on first. I went ahead and sat by her. She looked like she was okay with it.

"So, it's your last year eligible?" She looked at me with big blue eyes. "Yeah," I ran my fingers through my hair. She nodded. "Lucky. I've got one to go." "You'll be alright," I said. "There're always volunteers around here. I don't know why." I looked at her. "Me neither." She stood up. "It's our stop, Elliot." I looked around. "Oh." I blushed; I'm sure of it.

We walked down and into the roped-off area. I waved to her, and she was immediately surrounded by a group of gaggling girls. I could just hear them. "Ooh, you were talking to the ginger?" "How was your chat with the Ginger-bread Man?" "I think Carrot Top has a crush!" I winced. I hate how people treat me differently because of my hair. Why do people discriminate because of physical differences? I don't get it.

For a moment I couldn't even believe Amelia, or any other girl for that matter, would talk to me. I am an awkward, dozy "ginger". No wonder I have no friends and get no dates. Then I snapped out of it. My hair didn't define me. Just because I am pale, freckled, and redheaded (unlike the tan, blonde-haired sort of District 4) doesn't mean I am less than the others.

"Welcome!" Our escort Kikora screeched some more introductions that I didn't bother to listen to. I dozed off while she strutted to the girls' bowl. She picked a slip from the bottom. "Am-" "I volunteer!" The goth girl who lives on the west portion of town (away from the ocean) walked gracefully onto the stage. "Yes, a volunteer! Name?" Kikora extended the microphone to the girl. "Islera Halsey." The girl spoke loud, clear, and elegant. I couldn't even imagine her slaughtering her way to victory, but hey, I'm not really in a place to judge others.

Then, Kikora walked to the boy's bowl. "Our male tribute is…" She picked the slip on the very top. "Elliot McNamara." I gasped. Of course. With my luck, I lasted until the final eligible year and then fate decides to pick me. Wonderful.

I waited for a volunteer, but none came. I walked to the stage bravely with my head held high. I want to show girls like Amelia that I am worthy of their love. I want to show guys that I may be clumsy, but I am tough, too. Most of all, I want to show everyone that gingers can be just as powerful as anyone else.

And guess what? I am a ginger.

**Hey guys! Another update here, as you can see. What do you guys think about the fishing district's unusual pair? Who is your favorite so far? Vote for your pick for the Chariot POV on my bio page. (I think that's what it's called?) Thanks for reading and reviewing! See you tomorrow.**


	6. District 5 Reaping

**PERSEPHONE HALE, DISTRICT 5**

I stayed up that whole night. I was frustrated, so frustrated, because I couldn't read the simplest of text. I mean, I could read, but since I had severe dyslexia it was extremely difficult. I spent over two hours on one page of To Kill a Mockingbird trying to improve my fluency, because I knew that if we read out loud in class that I would be tormented and teased again and again, just like it has always been. I've always been Persephone the Dumb Girl.

As soon as I saw the sun rise I went ahead and got ready for the Reaping. I slipped on an old, torn denim dress, because I didn't care. I tried to comb my frizzy blonde hair down, but I ended just sticking it into an askew ponytail. I was underfed and completely malnourished, and I was a lanky old thing. I had narrow green eyes, a snub nose, and pointy ears. I looked kind of like an elf, but I don't know what their IQs are.

Before I walked out of my dimly lit room, I tossed the dreaded To Kill a Mockingbird into a little plate that I had on my dresser. I flicked on my esteemed lighter, and I set the wretched book into flames. It shriveled into black nothings, and I laughed in spite of myself. I love fire: the way it looks, the way it smells, and the way it burns.

As to not set our dingy house on fire for the zillionth time, I hit out the fire with my pillowcase. It scorched the bottom black and crispy. Whoops.

I walked out of my room and past my mother's. She was lying in bed, as always, doing nothing. She has some sort of long-term heart illness that we can't afford to get help for. So, she lays there in pain while I go do whatever I want. I mean, if it weren't for Peacekeepers, I wouldn't have to go to the Reaping at all. Unfortunately, they scan the area for truant kids. If they find any, they are punished. Their parents, absent or not, are, too.

My father loves me, actually, but he is always working his low-income job to support my mother, my run-amuck brother Ashka, and me. I walked out of our shack and onto the street. Some kids were playing hopscotch and a couple was on the roof of the tenement building next to our little house. I've never had a real boyfriend. I've had a few, but I'm not the super best looking, and I am an easily frustrated, sometimes moronic girl who is often cynical and crude. Boys can't tolerate me, and I'm cool with it.

The District 5 city square is always ablaze with lights of all sorts. The escort lady had a suit of heavy, I assume, lights on, so she teetered across the stage. "Welcome! Ladies first." She crossed to the girls bowl. I looked around at my schoolmates: some nervous, some calm, some waiting for a revolution. They've been waiting too long.

Light Lady drew a slip from the side. "Persephone Hale." Wait, what? My name?! I was pushed along by the Men in White until I got to the stage. I tried to look calm, but I couldn't do it. I shook myself out and stuttered, "Persephone, Per-seph-o-ne." The younger kids in the front looked at me weird, but I was terrified.

I don't think I ever shook that feeling of being terrified.

**GIDEON "GLITCH" ASHBY, DISTRICT 5**

"Gideon, honey, wake up." Basik, my maternal aunt and caregiver, shook my shoulders gently. I blinked my eyes open to see Basik holding my sister Mima's hand. "Good morning, Glitch." Mima smiled at me sweetly. I told them both good morning out of spite, because I knew today was the Reaping. I swung my legs over the bed and grabbed a blue polo shirt and a pair of black pants. I slipped on a pair of black boots before I walked to the mirror.

I had spiky blonde hair that went every which way, bright green eyes, and fair skin. I was lean and decently tall. Before I walked out of my room, I grabbed my cards. I was not a complete scammer with those cards, but I guess I could be called somewhat of a con. I'm good with card games, so I liked to play around with people less intelligent than I was. Even Peacekeepers were easy to dupe. They were the richest around here, too.

I walked into the main room, where my aunt sat combing Mima's hair. Basik took us in after our parents died in a freak accident at the grid a long time ago. She was the only one who called me Gideon anymore. I got the name Glitch when I was in elementary school. I was pretty accident-prone, so I teasingly got called Glitch, but it stuck.

I don't really go to school anymore. Basik didn't care, because she knew I was smart already. Smarter than most of my peers, anyways. "Ready to go, Gideon?" Basik stood up and brushed off her hair-infested dress. I nodded and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. I ate as we walked towards the brightly-lit square. I threw the core on the ground before I walked to my section. Basik hugged me and Mima wished me good luck. I stopped and talked in my age group with a bunch of acquaintances. I don't have too many friends because I normally end up duping them for my benefit. Hey, my family and I have to eat.

I tried not to look too smug when our escort Yolanda trotted upon the stage in a lit-up fat suit. I zoned out until she ended up right at the ladies' bowl. "Persephone Hale." Some blonde girl who was my age was pushed onto the stage by the Fuzz. I took my well-worn cards out of my pocket and I shuffled them around. I gingerly put the ace of spades on top for good luck.

I stared at the bent spadille as Yolanda walked to the boys' bowl. The blonde girl, who I may or may not have conned before, stood on the stage shaking and muttering something unintelligible. She didn't look too bright. Yolanda held a slip in her hands. "Joining Miss Hale will be…" She unfolded the paper. "Gideon Ashby." Crap. I looked over to Mima and Basik, both blank-faced. I nodded as if I were saying it was okay, but I knew it wasn't. Do they allow you to swindle in the Hunger Games? Maybe I would be okay.

My bones rattled inside my body out of fear, but my shell remained calm as it moved itself to the stage. I stuck my hands in my pocket and pulled out the death card. I wondered if President Snow would be up for a good game of Three-Card Monte.

**Hey everyone. Sorry for the missed day, and no excuses, but I had my hands full. I will be posting two chapters today, plus (hopefully) the finished list of tributes. I hope you liked this chapter, and I will post another this afternoon. Thanks!**


	7. District 6 Reaping

**BETHANY CLEARWATER, DISTRICT 6**

I woke up with the loaded blow gun in my hand. I fell asleep trying to perfect my aim, I think. I know it will never be perfect, but I try to make it close. I looked at the dartboard opposite my bed. Two centered, three miscellaneously scattered. I grabbed another dart and shot it straight into the center. Perfect.

I realized it was the Reaping day when I heard my Grandma stir. She doesn't wake up this early except on particularly stressful days. I live with Gram since my mother, a.k.a. her daughter, died in the Hunger Games right after I was born. My father died in a fire before I was even a part of this Earth. Gram is really all I have.

I sat down my blow gun and I changed into a frilly blue dress with a white bow on it. My grandma appeared in my doorway. "You look tired, Beth." She stroked my long, blonde hair in her feeble hands. I hugged her, and said, "I know. I was trying to perfect my aim…" "You always were a perfectionist, dear. You still look lovely, though." She picked up my locket off my desk and she clasped it on my neck. I smiled; that locket held a picture of my mother and father.

"Are you ready, then?" I slipped on a pair of white sandals. "Yes. Let's go." Grandma and I walked out of our apartment together. I watched the other kids as we walked: some couples were holding hands, some girls were giggling with friends, and some kids were playing tag in front of the grocery. I wished I could have an innocent childhood again, but I knew in my heart that I had it better than a lot of other kids in the country.

I watched a particular couple of a girl and boy my age walking by. I secretly desired that I could have that, a meaningful relationship or whatever. I'm really not confident in myself, and I'm practically a hermit when it comes to socializing. It's not that I don't think I'm a little pretty, because I do, sort of. It's more my personality, my unwillingness to converse with someone other than Gram.

"Bye, dear, and good luck." Gram kissed my forehead as soon as we walked into the city circle. I nodded and walked to my age group. I know that this was hard for her because of Mom. Mom had me when she was 18, and then she was chosen. She was murdered in the bloodbath, because as gentle as Gram says her to be, she was never a fighter. I miss her.

I joined my only friend Aggie in the 15-year-olds section. "Hey, Beth." Aggie smiled at me and her curly hair flopped everywhere. We chitchatted about random things until the escort waltzed on stage.

"Hola, ya'll!" The eccentric escort Marmorena walked to the girls' bowl. "Ladies' first!" Marmorena picked a slip from the very bottom. "Lucy Longfellow!" I looked around for the unfamiliar name. The young girl, only 12, I believe, was supported on a crooked cane. She was hunched over and limping and her eyes were crossed as if she were blind. They were making her go into the Games? How cruel!

I didn't realize what I yelled until I felt the rush of relief coming from Lucy's mother. "Thank you!" She cried out, hugging Lucy so tightly that the young girl broke into a coughing fit. I suppressed my tears as I found Gram in the audience. She nodded in assent. I knew she loved me more than anything. But I did the right thing.

I keep telling myself it's true. I did the right thing.

**DARREN HAIKU-DAY, DISTRICT 6**

"Darren!" Dahlia, crying heavy, wet tears, bit my arm that hung over the edge of my bed. "Shh, Dahl, it's okay." I blinked my eyes open and I stretched to get over my seemingly endless slumber. Dahlia is my youngest stepsibling of the four I have had ever since my drug-addict mom and my drunken dad took in kids they knew that they couldn't care for. Life is good.

I picked Dahlia up onto the bed. She held her favorite little rag doll in one hand and she was wiping her tears with the other. "What happened?" I stroked her blonde hair out of her eyes. "Today is Hunger Games day." I knew Dahlia knew what the Hunger Games were because of the death of her only biological brother Jackalow a couple of years ago. I held her little hand in mine. "We'll be okay," I told her.

I got dressed into a white button-down shirt, a light brown open waistcoat with matching trousers, brown shoes, and I secured a dark brown flat cap over my wavy black hair. I guess I am of average weight and height for a 16-year-old. I'm a little chubby due to the fact that I don't exercise and I eat too much, but that isn't uncommon in the transportation borough of District 6. Dahlia led me downstairs, where Mom and Dad were passed out from a hangover on the couch. I walked around Mom's "medical" Morphling injections and I sighed.

My stepsisters Emerin and Keeley were sitting at the table working on a school assignment. My favorite stepbrother Chaste was standing in the kitchen eating some leftover meat. "Hey, Darren," Chaste beamed. "Hey," I said, stealing some of the meat. Emerin, always the responsible one, stood up. "We better get walking, guys. It's a long ways down there." I nodded and took Dahlia's hand.

We got to the town hall just in time for the girls' drawings. Chaste and I walked to the 16-year-old section with 5-year-old Dahlia, and Emerin and Keeley walked to stand with the 13-year-olds. I lifted Dahlia up onto my shoulder. "Lucy Longfellow!" The escort lady beamed. A crippled blind girl staggered to the stage.

How could they do that? Putting a lame girl in the Hunger Games, I mean. She wouldn't stand a chance! "I volunteer!" A voice from the 15-year-olds section caught my attention. A decently pretty blonde girl walked onto the stage, and Lucy's mother (I guess that's who she was) was bawling and crying out gratitude to the teary-eyed, brave girl who gave her life for that little crippled girl.

Then, the lady walked over to the boys' bowl. I was hoping it wasn't Chaste or even me, but not for selfish reasons. Mostly because of Dahlia, who knows way too much for a four-year-old. I want her to have a childhood, and I definitely don't want her to be influenced by Mom and Dad.

She picked another piece of paper. I clutched Dahlia's hand. I swear I heard a pin drop. "Darren Haiku-Day." No! Dahlia's eyes widened. She broke down crying, and she started biting my arm. Chaste pried her teeth open and grabbed Dahlia away from me. He smiled gently and said, "Go get 'em, tiger." He pointed to Dahlia's rag doll and whispered to her, "Give this to bubby." Dahlia, still weeping, handed me her favorite worn-out doll. "Thank you." I tried my hardest not to cry as I walked up the marble stairs leading to the rostrum holding a slobbery, beautiful rag doll.

"Shake hands!" The crazy escort grinned. I shook the girl's hand firmly. I looked into the audience to find Dahlia. Sweet, innocent little Dahlia… I could never imagine her doing what I know I must do. Does the Capitol really think I would ever let anyone make her compete in the Hunger Games?

Over my dead body.

**Hey everyone! Another chapter, hopefully somewhat of a reimbursement for skipping yesterday's. I will also have a full tribute list up tonight, hopefully. District 7 up tomorrow, and since I am on break this week, I will have MUCH more time to continually post. Thank you, as always. **


	8. District 7 Reaping

**PEACH PARCHWOOD, DISTRICT 7**

"Peach, dear! Breakfast!" I woke up to my mother's caring and serene voice. I carefully got out of bed before I looked in my closet for an outfit. I knew it was the Reaping because I had a lot of trouble falling asleep the past night. I chose a cute bright green dress with pink flats and purse to complete the outfit. I brushed out my long blonde hair and I secured it into a ponytail with clips. My brother Dayley walked into my room dressed in a nice shirt and slacks and said quietly, "Breakfast, Peach." I smiled and said, "Yes, Dayley."

After I walked downstairs, I noticed how elaborate the table was. Normally, my hospitable mother did make a lovely breakfast, but today she had the full setup including flowers in a crystal vase, a stainless white tablecloth, and steaming food on china plates. "Wow, Mom!" I sat down next to my littlest brother Farroll, who was shoveling mashed sweet potatoes into his mouth barbarically with his hands.

Mom smiled as she handed me a heaping plate. "I had a little extra time this morning." She smiled and undid her apron. "I'll say!" I took the plate. "Thanks!" I dug into her famous gooseberry muffins first. Dad walked down the stairs in his typical glorious mood. "Morning, beauteous family of mine!" "Hi, Dad!" I said while spooning some cinnamon soup into my mouth with polite etiquette. He joined us at the table and we all ate, for the last time, as a full and happy family.

"Well, I'll be! That was a fantastical meal, Cherry!" My dad wiped soup out of his furry mustache. "Thanks, dear. Peach and I better head on down. Can you watch the boys?" Mom picked up the dishes and I cleaned them. "Absolutely." My dad stood up and hugged me. "Good luck, Peachy Keen!" I put down the clean china I was drying and I hugged him back. "Alright. Love you!" I grabbed my purse and Mom opened the door. "Love you, too!" My dad smiled gently, and I forgot what his smile looked like.

Mom and I walked down the shaded streets together, marveling at the foliage that was ripe at this time of spring. Birds chirped with their babies, and flowers bloomed in a happy disposition. I felt happy, too, but then again, when was I not?

We landed at the tree-covered stage near town hall a few minutes after disembarking the cheerful, happy house of the Parchwoods. "Bye, Mom." I hugged her. "Bye, Peachy. Love you." "You too!" I smiled at her as I walked to join my friends in the 13-year-old section. "Peach!" My friend Sophia called me over. "Oh, hi! Are you nervous?" I asked. "No, it's just like every year." She smiled and the escort, Folly, stepped onto the leaf-concealed ground of the stage.

"Welcome, everybody!" The green, tree-like lady grinned. "We will start today with the ladies!" She slinked to the eerie bowl that had just two slips with my name on them. Just two slips were all. Sophia grasped my hand, and I clenched it tight. Folly can't draw our names. She just can't.

Folly undid the sticker that closed the neat slip. "Peach Parchwood." No! Sophia looked at me with her big, brown, teary eyes. I squeezed her hand again for what I thought would be the last time. I walked up onto the stage. It smelled like a forest, like joyful animals playing or a rainbow glistening in the sunshine. Unfortunately, I never got to see another one of those.

I found my mom in the audience as I touched my golden peach pendant that she gave to me. I'll try, Mom. I'll try…

**BLAZE POKER, DISTRICT 7**

"Damn it!" My thumb hit the broiling tip of the lighter as I set the inferno onto the unsuspecting caterpillar. Its little body shot into flames, and it crumbled into black ash-like remains of old life. "Yes!" I exclaimed, watching the bug crinkle into its final state. I got pleasure out of other things experiencing pain. I've had enough myself.

I have no family or friends. I don't attend school. I live with myself and my lighter in a small abandoned shack in the middle of the forest. The only person who comes around here is Ark, and he swings by just to make sure I haven't scorched myself to death. I almost have a few times, but nothing too serious.

I heard footsteps after my latest victim was nothing but black powder. I thought it was Ark, giving me some old bread or a pitcher of water like he normally does. It wasn't his light tread though. They were almost marching footsteps, and they were multiplied by five. I looked behind me. The Peacekeepers, the Fuzz, the Men in White. Whatever they were called, it didn't matter; they were coming to get me.

I ran, barefoot, with my messy auburn hair and clothes charred and singed with a reek of smoke, to the town hall. I have been caught by the Fuzz before, and it wasn't pleasant. They electrocute you with a long metal rod, and it was nothing like the cool, intense heat of a burn. I didn't mind those all too bad, but I could do without that rod.

The weird tree lady was already done calling girls' names by the time I ran to my section. A young, rich girl stood on the stage in her frilly dress. I didn't know the girl, she looked to be two years younger than I was, and I didn't go to school, but she appeared naïve and weak. She'd be easy to ignite, and I'd watch her run into the inevitable flames that would crumple her down into black dust…

"Our boy tribute is…" Tree lady pulled a slip from the big glass bowl as I clicked my lighter on and off as a nervous habit. "Blaze Poker!" Oh, my name. Okay. I started laughing, loud and obnoxiously. An almost maniacal laughter escaped my trembling lips. All the town kids looked at me, the outsider. I walked up to the stage laughing. I know how to win these Games.

It has a little something to do with fire.

**Hello! Here's District 7's, and I will have 8 up by 8:00 tonight. Sorry I've been quite inconsistent; I'm really trying to be constant! These last Reapings will probably be a bit shorter, just because I want to move on with the Chariots and things. Oh, and the winners of the first poll for POVs were Demetrius, Glace, and Wren. I will have a second one up at the end of the Reapings for the final three POVs! Thanks, as always, and talk to you at 8:00! **


	9. District 8 Reaping

**VALE MOONSHADE, DISTRICT 8**

Sage and Myrtle were glued to my sides when the sunlight woke me up. I pulled the shades, and the blinding light made itself a home in our little abandoned shack. I got up and got dressed while the girls slept. I put on my nicest moss green dress with worn navy blue flats. As soon as I brushed out my long auburn hair, I walked over to my two beautiful little sisters.

Sage was the middle kid at eleven years old with young Myrtle at six. Thank goodness neither of them were old enough for the Reaping, or I would die of stress. I already take out tesserae to feed us, but I couldn't bear either of them having to. I also couldn't bear us in a community home, so I took care of that. I take care of things.

I tickled Sage awake, and she beamed at me. "Morning, Vale." She got up and hugged me. "Morning, Sage. Can you get Myrtle up? I will make us breakfast." Sage nodded and I walked into the small kitchen of our makeshift home.

I baked a pile of grain of grain and water over the fire while listening to Sage and Myrtle running around. Myrtle shot out of the bedroom, laughing, and I sighed while suppressing a grin. "Girls, come eat!" I set out three plates and spooned mush onto them like a desperate lunchlady. Both of them collected themselves and they ate like ladies. I love my sisters.

"Thanks, Vale!" They said together. I smiled and said, "Go get dressed, please. I'm taking you to daycare." They both groaned. Still, there was no way that I was taking them to the Reaping. Not now, not ever. Well, I guess in a year or two, but I don't want to think that far ahead.

They came out dressed in my old dresses that were way too big. I combed out their hair and braided it into cute little plaits that wrapped around their head. "Okay, let's walk to Miss Patterson's." Miss Patterson owned the free daycare downtown. It was my savior when I needed to go somewhere quickly, like the store, to a friend's house, or even to the Reaping.

We walked hand-in-hand to Miss Patterson's. I dropped them off and said, "See you soon. I love you." "I love you too!" They squealed and then they ran off to meet their friends. So did I.

Gen's house was not too far away from mine. I walked up their nice, homey front porch and knocked. Mrs. Himstone answered the door. "Morning, Vale!" She let me inside. "Morning, Mrs. Himstone! Is Gen awake?" "No, you can take care of that, if you will." She smiled and walked back into the kitchen. In wafted the unfamiliar smell of sizzling bacon and warm biscuits. It didn't smell at all like tesserae mush.

I walked into Gen's room. I touched his gleaming face and I said, "Gen, wake up." He blinked his eyes open. We chatted for a moment before he went to get dressed. He has been my best friend since before my parents' accidents, and he has always been there for me. I don't know how I feel about him, because I've never actually loved a boy. I think it's something more than friendship, but I can't tell.

He came out dressed in nice Reaping clothes, and after Mrs. Himstone graciously let us eat, we walked to town hall together. Town Hall is draped in intricately woven strands of cloth, signifying our district's undying love for textiles. He squeezed my hand good luck as we split apart to our age groups. I am surprisingly not a recluse even though I live in an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere. I found a group of friends from school and we talked about the weather or something else insignificant.

Our escort Bartholomew introduced the Reaping and then he walked to the girls' bowl. He picked a slip and I held my breath. "Vale Moonshade." Of course. I sent a mental 'You'll be okay, I love you' SOS to my sisters, but I don't think they got the message.

I walked up to the stage trying to keep as cool as possible. I tried to find Gen in the audience, but I couldn't. I need him to protect and care for my sisters. Turns out, he decided to care for me directly instead.

**GEN HIMSTONE, DISTRICT 8**

"Gen, wake up," I felt her soft hand on my face before the words registered. I blinked my weary eyes and she came into view. Man, she's gorgeous. "Vale, how'd you get here?" I sat up, embarrassed slightly by the fact that I was wearing just my boxers. She giggled slightly, and I noticed she wore a pale green dress. "Your mom. And I'm not joking either." I couldn't help but laugh at her. She has been my friend for as long as I could remember. I didn't notice that I really liked her, as in more than friends, until recently.

I changed into a pair of my nicest jeans and a button up shirt in the closet. After combing my hair, I walked out of the closet and turned to Vale. "Ready?" I asked, and I opened the door for her. She nodded at me, and I tried not to fawn over her. I am a hopeless romantic. But, I am also a martial arts and karate buff who is good with knives. Even though I don't like to think about it, I think I would be alright in the Hunger Games. I hoped that I wouldn't have to be in them any time soon.

I am 17, which is a year older than Vale. After we ate and quick bite and said goodbye to my mom, I walked out of the door side-by-side with my friend. My dad died in a Capitol raid when I was six. Vale has been my only friend all these years, particularly because I am shy. I also have somewhat of a bad attitude when it comes to life. I just don't get it. I looked over to my right, and she smiled at me. I blushed, I know I did. She made me want to understand life.

We got to the fabric-coated town hall with time to spare. I held her hand and squeezed it goodbye as we were roped off by age. Then our escort, an overweight, paisley-printed man named Bartholomew, walked to the microphone. "Hello, District 8. Let's get right to the Reaping. Ladies' first!" The big glass bowl sat on a stool to the right, symmetrical to the boys' bowl to the left. I knew Vale got some tesserae, and I hoped she wouldn't get picked. Please, please, don't pick Vale…

Bartholomew cleared his throat. I looked in the crowd for Vale, but I couldn't find her. I wished that I could touch her soft, auburn hair when the name echoed in my ears. "Vale Moonshade."

No. No! I knew right when I saw her walk onto the stage that I was going to volunteer. She looked so beautiful, I had to save her. I just had to…

When I finally got out of my mental tirade, Bartholomew was hovering over the boys' bowl with a slip of paper. I got ready to yell out to volunteer when he regally said, "Gen Himstone." What a piece of luck! I ran up before anyone could volunteer. Vale was close to crying, but I smiled and mouthed, "It's alright." She nodded. I put on a brave façade, but really, I was scared out of my wits. I had to keep Vale alive. She has her sisters to take care of, and they need her! Also, because… I love her.

**Hey everyone! Here's District 8 (a little early, woohoo), provided by friends of mine. Hope you liked this mushy-gushy doomed romance thing, because it will definitely play out throughout the Games. District 9 and possibly 10 up tomorrow, then the final two Reapings! Eep!**


	10. District 9 Reaping

**EMERALD CLAIRE, DISTRICT 9**

I woke up in a frozen stupor. I wasn't drunk, I've never been, but I felt like I imagined it would. Shyianne, my little sister, and Kaila, my adoptive mother, were curled up on the floor wrapped in blankets. I got off the couch and I walked into the closet space that we have. I put on a nice blue dress and a big jacket that I sunk into. I was freezing because, of course, we have no heat here in chilly District 9.

Shyianne and I were born in the warm paradise of District 4, but our parents were in a train crash many years ago. I took young Shyainne onto the next train (ironic, huh?) heading north, and we ended up in District 9. We were starving homeless kids until Kaila, our rescuer, took us in. We live in a small shack far away from town.

I walked over to the mirror. I guess some people would call me sexy, some would say I was average. I had a tan and curvy body, and I had long blonde hair that I combed into a ponytail for the Reaping. My parents named me after the color of my enchanting eyes. Luscious, gem-like eyes that glowed a marvelous green.

I woke Shyianne up on accident as I walked into the kitchen. She yawned and stretched as she looked at me. "Emmy, why are you dressed so fancy?" She was seven, but we had no physical resemblances. Heck, I didn't know if we really were kin, but I still loved her. "Today's the Reaping." I said monotonously, trying to avoid her attention. I knew that she knew what the Hunger Games were; I just didn't want to have to explain the specifics.

Kaila woke up. "Morning, girls," She stood up. She was middle-aged, but she was still very pretty compared to most other middle-aged District 9 women. She took us in not out of pity, but because she wanted children. She was married to an abusive man, and when she left him, she found us. She says that we saved her, but it was the opposite.

I helped Kaila make breakfast. We had rice patties with a cranberry topping, and it was delicious. After I brushed out Shyianne's long brown hair, we all walked the long trek to the city square together. I don't know how I really felt about the Hunger Games. I mean, of course, I don't support them. I'm not the very brightest, but I think I would be smart enough to understand the motives somewhat. I have no clue.

I kissed Kaila goodbye and I hugged Shyianne before I ran off to join my amazing boyfriend Colton. "Hey, babe," He said as I ran into his arms. "Hey! You nervous?" I tucked my cold body under his warm arm and I wished that I would've worn long pants. "No. We'll be okay." He brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. Colton was the best-looking guy in all of District 9, and even though he was nothing compared to the gorgeous typical District 4 guy, I loved him. Well, I thought I did before that lust feeling hit me.

I suddenly felt a rush of desire right there in that city square. I wanted to have everything, to be admired and sought by everyone because I was successful and beautiful. "Listen," I pulled him in and let my new feelings out. "I want something more than this." I looked deep into his beautiful blue eyes. "What do you mean?" He said. "I mean, I want to be rich, powerful, and beautiful." "You already are beautiful." He laced his fingers into mine. I looked away from him. "You don't get it, do you? I just want more." "Why? You have more than a lot of people." I pulled my fingers out of his. "You don't get it."

As I stormed off, the escort Marmalade jiggled onto the stage. She was a gooey, fat orange woman who had bright pink pigtails. "Welcome, ladies and gentleman! We will start this Reaping off with the ladies' bowl!" She hovered over the bowl, and I waited for the right time. "Jen-" "I volunteer!" I yelled, knowing that with my inherited knife-throwing skills (my dad was a knife enthusiast) that I could win the prize. For Shyianne, for Kaila…

But mostly for me.

**MASON SAMUELS, DISTRICT 9**

I stayed up all night practicing with my blowgun. I shot again and again, hitting right on target every time. I played my brother's words over and over again in my head like a broken record, and they pushed me to practice until sunrise. He was a glorious victor, and he was showered with gifts, affection, and women. Lots and lots of women.

I got up and fixed my shaggy black hair before I got dressed. I slipped on a cuffed polo shirt and black trousers with shoes to match. My family, thanks to my victorious brother, is pretty rich for District 9 standards. We live in a penthouse in the center of District 9. I have a girlfriend, but she's nothing too special. If I won the Hunger Games, I could have the best.

I walked downstairs in a pretty eager mood. I couldn't wait to volunteer, to fight, and to win. My brother moved away a few years ago, but I still lived with my mom. She was still in bed, as she normally slept late, but she knew I was volunteering. She was okay with it because she knew how much time I put into perfecting my aim with my preferred weapon, a blowgun.

I grabbed an apple as I walked to the city square. I was tired, but the apple energized me enough to look somewhat awake. It wasn't a very long walk before I got to the city square. I threw the apple core down as I looked around. I walked to meet a few of my friends from school. My girlfriend Shauna was there, too. "Hey, Muscles," She said as she squeezed my arms like she always did. I guess I did have big muscles for my size, but my real appeal was my aim.

"Hey," I said calmly, because none of my friends or Shauna knew that I was volunteering. I went ahead and kissed Shauna, even though I didn't like it all too well. She was alright for District 9, but I wanted more. Like my brother, whose house is crawling with the hottest chicks you could find. I wanted it all. The escort lady walked onto the stage. Her plump fingers grabbed a slip, and I waited for the woman that would fall victim to me. "Jen-" "I volunteer!"

A hot blonde chick that was a year younger than me walked onto the stage. I smiled. Yes, someone who I could use. Shauna smacked my arm. "Why you lookin' at her?" She said. "I'm not!" I ran my fingers through my hair. Shauna, being the jealous bitch that she was, walked away to gossip with some of her girlfriends. I smiled again. I was ready for the Games.

Before the escort could even open the slip, I yelled, "I volunteer!" as loud as I could. I walked up onto the stage looking as smug as I could. I winked at the girl, and she just stood there. It wouldn't take long for me to convince her.

It wouldn't take long for me to convince anyone.

**Hey guys! Another update. Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow… if I have time tomorrow night I might post, but no promises. Enjoy the holiday! :)**


	11. District 10 Reaping

**EVENIN RATHBONE, DISTRICT 10**

"Evenin!" I recognized my little sister Talia's voice before I opened my eyes. "Look at the cows!" She was standing near the window with her little hands perched upon the windowsill of my bedroom. I swung my feet over the bed and walked to her. I giggled when I saw the cows standing in a clump, mooing rambunctiously. "I guess they know it's Reaping day too, don't they?" Talia looked up at me and smiled. She looks like a small version of me: curly brown hair, big hazel eyes, and full lips. I love Talia more than anything.

"They sure do!" I picked her up and swung her around. She laughed and I set her down on the bed. Thank goodness she is only six and not old enough for the Reaping. I couldn't bear the thought of her in the terrible Hunger Games, not now, not ever. "Can I come with you today, sissy?" She wrapped her little arms around my neck. "You can stand with Momma and Papa." I let her go and stood up. "Really?" She grinned. Even though I hated it and I didn't want her to go, I said, "Really. Let's get dressed now."

I put on a cream shirt and a light blue skirt and I pulled my hair into a high ponytail. Talia wobbled into my room in my favorite old Reaping dress. It was pink and it had little flowers all over the bottom. She looked so cute. "Mommy says we need to eat before we go." She only had one shoe on. "Okay." I grabbed my nicest pair of shoes and walked out of my room hand-in-hand with Talia.

When we got downstairs I hugged Momma and Papa. "Morning, baby," Momma said, holding a plate of raw beef. All we ever eat around here is beef. It makes me sick, because I am sixteen now and I work on the farms. I am in charge of cleaning the slaughtering equipment. It's doubly terrible because I believe in animal rights, but down here in 10 it's either eat beef or starve.

Papa handed me a plate of beef stew with a beef patty on the side. I sat down and ate, and then I washed out my mouth. "Be right back, guys," I said as I walked out of the door onto our farm. I come out here each morning to meet my kind-of-not-so-boyfriend Mitch. He works on my Papa's farm tending to the cows. He and I go to school together.

He was standing near the fence where the cows are harmonizing wearing overalls and looking adorable. He called out to me, "Beautiful moo-sic, huh?" I busted out laughing. "Oh, yeah. Totally." I knew I was blushing. I don't know if he likes me or not, but just standing out here this morning makes me feel better. "So, it's Reaping morning," I said, walking closer to him. "Yeah, I could tell by the cows. They've seen hovercrafts all over. It freaks 'em out."

We talked about the cows and the Games for a few minutes. I looked at him, and I really thought for a minute that something could happen. Then, Momma called me from our little old farmhouse. "Time to go!" I yelled, "Okay, Momma!" Then I turned back to Mitch. "Thanks. Good luck." "You too, Eve." He tipped his ball cap towards me and walked towards his house on the other side of the road.

By the time we got to town square, our escort was getting up. My parents and Talia stood with the other parents, and I saw Mitch standing with the other 17-year-olds. Our escort was standing at the girls' bowl while I was looking at Mitch, wondering if it could ever be.

I didn't realize what the escort said until the Peacekeepers were pushing me onstage.

**DARIUS ALEKSANDER, DISTRICT 10**

I woke up on the seemingly normal day thinking about nothing. Is that even possible? Thinking about nothing, I mean? I was alone in the abandoned shack that I called my own. I slipped on my typical black tee shirt and jeans. I looked outside the windows to see the Peacekeepers making their rounds.

"Welcome to the Reaping," I muttered to myself as I looked in the broken mirror that leaned up against the wall. I have short black hair and slightly tanned skin, and I am somewhat muscly from work. I grabbed my Hori-Hori off my dresser and I held it firmly in my hand. I have trained hard (secretly) with that knife, hoping that one day I could do what my ancestors did over 70 years ago. I am kin to one of the Rebellion leaders from 10, and I am proud of that.

My job description is to dig up saplings for District 7, but I only do that sometimes. Really, I get myself lost in training. I can throw the knife, I can fight hand-to-hand with the knife, and I could possibly lead a Rebellion with the knife. I'm only 17 right now, though, so I'm waiting for the right time.

If in between now and the right time I would happen to get Reaped, well, I would just have to be a victor. I want Panem to be alive again, like Gramps said it used to be before the Hunger Games and before they started keeping a strict eye over the citizens. I want to change that.

Before I walked out the door, I threw a few practice runs into a crease in the wall. Hit. Hit. Hit. I smiled as I put on a necklace made of white rope that was my mom's before she died. I sat down my beloved Hori-Hori onto my dresser before I walked to town. It took a while, mostly because I'm not very fast. I always told jokes to myself in my head when I was walking, but today they weren't very funny.

I got to town hall in time for the girls' names to be drawn. The escort, a very tall man with bright red hair, introduced himself. I looked around for my half-brother, Tobee, but I couldn't find him. I thought he might've been playing that game where the Peacekeepers chase you, but I wasn't for sure. "Welcome to the Reaping, and I am Farnsworth," The escort hissed. I thought he might've been on stilts, because no person was that tall naturally.

"Ladies first." He wobbled to the glass bowl to the right in a teetering manner, so I deducted that he was on stilts. He picked a slip off the very top, and he unfolded it neatly. "Evenin Rathbone." The crowd spread out around an unsuspecting teenage girl. Man, why do they have to do this? If we'd all take our forces and hit the Capitol hard, it wouldn't have to be this way. Kids would not have to die in vain any longer.

The girl walked timidly onto the stage. It looked like she didn't know what was going on, and she probably didn't. Heck, I didn't know either. "Okay, now for the men." Farnsworth stumbled to the leftmost bowl, where he chose the top slip again. I was starting to think he couldn't bend down on those stilts. "Darius Aleksander." The name didn't startle me. I knew it could happen all along. "Congratulations," I said to myself.

I walked onto the stage with an aura of confidence that I really didn't have. What if I did win the Games? What if I could lead something that could change lives? My head started to spin as I shook the girl's hand. Could I kill teenagers that have only one goal of staying alive?

If I have to so that I can change Panem, then I will.

**Hey again, here's District 10. The final two Reaping will be up this weekend, and then to Chariots! Who are you rooting for at this point? Thanks, as always! **

**P.S.: I edited this because Lion KingFactsGuy2 pointed out that I had District 11 beside Evenin's name. Thank you!**


	12. District 11 Reaping

**DANICA ROWAN, DISTRICT 11**

"Danica, get up!" Ash shook my shoulders until I felt like I was going to puke. "Fine," I said as I rubbed my weary eyes. I didn't sleep very well that night. Since everyone knew it was the Reaping the next day, the people who worked on the plantations stayed out until dawn plowing and picking the crops. Even though I didn't have to stay out late, our small farmhouse is right off the main plantation. I couldn't fall asleep to the sound of slaving workers.

After my brother left my room, I combed out my long black hair and I twisted it into a bun. I looked into the small mirror in my room and I saw a slim 17-year-old girl with dark skin and mesmerizing silver eyes. They were like my mother's before the accident. I slipped on a camouflage dress and black combat boots before walking into the living room of our grandparents' house.

My brother Ash and I were sent here after an accident happened to my mother and father at the farms. An uncharted Tracker Jacker nest was hit, and it spewed angry wasps that stung to kill. Their bloated bodies were found dangling limply off a tree branch. Ever since then, Grandpa and Grandma have cared for us. "Morning," Grampa sat at the table with droopy eyelids. "Good morning," I said, knowing that he had slaved all night just to get enough to last throughout the day.

Grandma walked in with her normal cheery mood on display. "Hi, Danica!" She kissed my head before adjusting the strap of my dress to show my shoulder. "Got to keep your star on display, dear." She winked. I knew she was referring to the birthmark on my shoulder, a four-pointed star that, in Slavic, I was named after. Ash, my big brother, walked in. He looked exactly like me, but his eyes were darker and he, of course, did not possess my star.

All four of us ate Grandma's famous lychee and pomegranate soup from the farm together. After that, Ash and I hugged Grandpa and Grandma goodbye. They couldn't come as they were too weak to walk to the town hall. Grandpa barely had enough energy to pick fruits from the low-dangling branches, and we were lucky the Capitol still found him useful for something. He would be executed otherwise. Grandma stayed at the house cooking for the Peacekeepers. I occasionally worked on the plantations, but I mostly stayed in my room. I worked on poisons.

It wasn't long before Ash and I reached town hall. He squeezed my arm good luck, and he walked to the 18-year-old section. I found a group of acquaintances from the plantations and we talked about the crops. I never mention my poison work to anyone but Grandma, Grandpa, and Ash. I find the berries and plants in the plantations hidden behind fruit bushes or trees. I gather them up and take them to my room where I mix them together to form a deadly liquid. No one knew I did that but those three.

As I talked, I noticed the other kids. Rich kids, poor kids, lonely kids, kids surrounded by other kids. I've never been very popular, mostly because I'm very open-minded and sometimes too honest. I'm also independent and strong, and I'll never cling onto anyone. I've never had a boyfriend, mostly because Ash wouldn't see me to it. I just don't see the appeal so soon. I have better things to do.

Kaka, the escort woman, appeared beside the rightmost bowl. "Welcome!" She said. "Ladies' first." She put her hand in the bowl. I've never been scared of the Hunger Games. They aren't scary. Want to know what's scary? Poison.

Kaka unfolded the slip and delicately said, "Danica Rowan."

My name. I only had a short amount of time left eligible in these Reapings, but of course, I was called. I took a deep breath in, and I walked proudly onto the stage. I scanned the crowd for Ash, who looked morbid. I wondered what Grandpa and Grandma were doing. I put a smirk on my face and I crossed my arms. I wasn't going down without a fight.

They'd better watch out. Danica knows how to win.

**CORBIN CHAN, DISTRICT 11**

I woke up to the dim light that wafted in through the badly-nailed boards. I made it myself, but I'm no carpenter. I'm more of a ninja.

I was an orphan. My parents died when I was young, and after a couple of years in the community homes, I decided I wasn't meant to be there. I could fend for myself, so I snuck out into the shadows of the night. I was also a quiet, invisible boy, and no one even knew I was gone. Most of the time, people didn't know where I was.

I was sitting in my hazily-lit shack eating a tesserae mush. I had to take out as much tesserae as possible, and I knew that I would eventually get chosen. Everyone else knew, too; I was just the orphan Chinese boy destined for failure. That's why I trained.

The switchblade I got from my deceased dad was unconventional. No one had ever had anything like it, so sharp and beautifully made. I watched each Hunger Games from behind the pillars in the town hall. No one saw me, but I saw them all. I saw how to win, and so I learned how to throw that knife exactly. It doesn't hurt that I am tiny and adaptable. I also know how to survive.

I walked out of my make-do shack with the blade hidden up my right sleeve. I wore a black tee shirt and pants like always, and I was indiscernible in a crowd. I may appear to be a weak young boy, but I was not. I was not.

I arrived at the town hall just in time. I blended myself in with the crowd, and even though I was it for my race in the district, I was unseen. The other 16-year-olds carried on with themselves while I settled myself in between two brawny plantation workers. I waited for my time. I somehow predicted, whether it be through the supernatural or through Zen, that I would be chosen. I also predicted I would win.

"Welcome!" The escort walked onto the stage. She went to the girls' bowl and retrieved a slip. "Danica Rowan." I didn't know the name. Then again, I didn't work on the plantations like most teenagers did. A girl older than me walked onto the stage with a breeze of confidence. She looked powerful. I hoped that we could ally if Zen pulled through.

The escort moved to the opposite bowl. I touched my concealed blade hilt, hoping that if my inner instincts showed true that they would have something similar in the arena. Her hand searched for a slip, and I swear I saw my name printed in delicate letters through the thick paper. "Corbin Chan." I sighed. Zen has and will never let me down.

I joined the girls on stage. My blade rattled as we shook hands. What is that, Zen? You are saying that I will win these Games?

You dare not lie to me.

**Hey everyone! Oh my goodness, only one more Reaping chapter left. See you all with District 12's tributes! **


	13. District 12 Reaping

**CAMMELIA KAMIKRAZE, DISTRICT 12**

"Katja, it's okay!" I said gingerly while stroking back her thin blonde hair. She was curled up in my arms crying over the hovercraft that darkened the already hazy, smoggy skies of District 12. I kissed her head softly as she quieted down. I was 18, but just because I had a daughter didn't mean I was a whore. I had a daughter through a hope for my family that turned to love.

My brother and sister came in the room to the sound of the baby. Jon held Katja while Rosa and I went downstairs to prepare a meal. My mother died right after Rosa was born over 7 years ago, and after that our world spiraled downwards. Dad, a coal miner, couldn't make enough to support our whole family on one income. I had to get a job, but there weren't many around for teenage girls with no experience. We were lost until I met Jay.

Jay fell in love with me, and I am still perplexed why. I mean, I was average looking for a Seam girl with long black hair and dark eyes. I was short and skinny, not at all voluptuous like I thought the mayor's son would want. I wasn't so petty as to be infatuated with a boyfriend at the time, so I disowned Jay and I tried to keep the family up by doing odd jobs. The mayor had a different plan for me.

I married Jay out of desperation for easy money over 2 years ago. The mayor compensated us for the arranged marriage, but I ended up falling in love with the wonderfully modest Jay. We had an inadvertent baby a year ago, and I love Katja with all my heart. I twirled my sparkling wedding ring around while mixing the bread dough. I finally heard pairs of footsteps from the upper floor.

Jay, who was holding a smiling Katja, came down with Jon and Dad at his heels. "Good morning," I said sweetly while shaping the dough. Jay kissed me, and Katja imitated. I giggled as Dad came up to me. "Good luck," he said as he tipped his mining cap at me. Then, he squeezed me into a loving hug. I hugged him back before he walked out of our small tenement. He taught me how to use darts long ago just in case the unthinkable would happen. By the unthinkable, I mean the Hunger Games.

I haven't ever been very exposed to the Games. I've just been to and from the Reapings each year, watching another pair of District 12 hopefuls die a brutal and sometimes diplomatic death. I'm scared of the Games, though, because even though you would think the victors would run free with their spared life, from what I've seen, they don't. They end up living in hell, being depressed or lonely or being a slave or prostitute to the Capitol. It'd be hard, and I'm not too sure a brutal death wouldn't be the prime decision over the life of a victor.

As soon as I was done thinking, the rolls were done. Jon, Rosa, Jay, and I ate together while Katja ran around on her newly stable legs. We all got ready for the Reaping, and I wore a faded yellow dress with a red ribbon around the waist that was my mother's. We all left to the square, and even though Jay was a year older than me, he kept Katja for me where the parents of the kids stood. I kissed him goodbye as I joined the teenagers my age. I was a mature mother, and most of them were not, so I didn't bother to interact or make small talk.

"Hello, hello!" The escort Percalia caught my attention with her green skin tattooed in shades of spring. "Ladies' first, as always!" She stuck a lime-colored hand into the glass, and she decided to rummage a while just for fun. I held my breath, hoping for Katja that it wasn't me.

"Cammelia Kamikraze." I twisted my wedding ring around, hoping Katja would be okay. I found her in Jay's loving arms when I took my place on the stage. No, I couldn't let Katja grow up without a mother, too. I couldn't.

**THOMAS "SAINT" TELLURIUM, DISTRICT 12**

"Tom!" I knew, even in slumber, that it was Mayleigh who woke me up. She was the only one who still called me Tom. My parents did, too, before the counterattack, and I mourn over them every day. I wished I could've changed things as I opened my eyes just enough to see my older sister. She was my caregiver and my guardian as far as I was concerned. She was really all I had. I wouldn't doubt it, even though I tended to do so in other conditions.

St. Thomas the Doubter, they would call me. I would shrug it off nonchalantly, but it resonated inside me. I was in fact a notorious pessimist, suspicious of situations like a typical doubter would be. It was only natural that a nickname as long as St. Thomas the Doubter would be shortened. Besides Mayleigh, who clung to the past like an old blanket, everyone called me Saint. Not because I am the ultimate Good Samaritan, even though I would've wanted to be.

They called me this because I was a doubter of all things: fishy or completely plausible situations, fishy or completely plausible people, and the Capitol. The sniveling, narcissistic society who makes life unbearable for average citizens towers above us as supreme. It makes me cringe, but I can't help it. My parents tried by attacking the local Peacekeepers, but it was in vain after they were instantly shot. My older brother fell, too, in liability to the Capitol. He was Reaped years ago and it didn't take long for me to lose hope in Panem.

I got out of my bed a few minutes after Mayleigh left my room. I fixed my shaggy blonde hair in the mirror. I was thin and lanky with greenish-blue eyes and pale skin. Mayleigh and I looked like we belong in the wealthier part of town along with the other blonde haired sort, but we live in the Seam along with the coal miners.

I put on a pair of old blue jeans and a white button-up shirt before slicking my unruly hair back. I walked into the living room of our small house where I saw Mayleigh reading a book. "Morning," I said blandly while eating some leftover grain bread. Our old dog Bone was lying down on the floor near her feet. "Morning, Tom," she replied. She looked like Mother did before the retaliation. I sighed in remembrance of her, Father, and my late brother. I patted Bone goodbye when Mayleigh got up from her chair. "Let's get this over with."

We had to catch a bus to get to the wealthier part of town that held the city square. Some Seam residents walked, but Mayleigh and I decided we could pass for town kids who ended up on the wrong side of town. We passed, of course, and we only had to pay the town kids' lesser fee. Around here, the Seam occupants are a hindrance on society, so they pay more to get less. It's discrimination, yes, but it isn't the only thing I doubt in Panem.

Mayleigh looked at me as if she knew the future. "Good luck," she said. I didn't know if she meant good luck for the Reaping or good luck in the Games.

Percalia, the loony old woman who has escorted here for many years, introduced herself in an airy, Capitol-like manner. After her introduction, she slowly (I guess in anticipation of a climax) picked a slip. "Cammelia Kamikraze." The name struck me instantly. It was the mayor's son's wife. I didn't know then that she was young enough to be eligible in the Reaping. The bags under her eyes told me at least 25 years were on her.

I couldn't take it as I looked at the miserable girl who looked youthful despite her tired eyes. Even the grandees around here are likely to be chosen. Anyone is likely: the 12-year-olds who want to make a life for themselves, the almost free 18-year-olds who want to move on, and me. The middle-aged me who is a hindrance on society.

I waited for her to draw the next slip, and I thought of something drastic. I wanted Mayleigh to move on with her life instead of having to stay in this district for me. I wanted to pay respect for my brother and parents who died trying to make us free. I wanted to try to make us free, too.

As terribly Saint-like as it sounds, the second she unfolded the slip, I yelled, "I volunteer!" The whole crowd turned to look at me, but I held my head up like a diplomat. I vowed to myself to save lives in the arena and to carry on my late family's legacy. Even though I doubted, I wouldn't doubt myself for a moment.

**At last, the Reapings are done! I am putting up another poll for the final tributes that will have a chance for a POV in the next chapter. PLEASE VOTE! I am thoroughly excited, and I hope you are as well. Well, thanks for your support, and let the Games begin!**


	14. Chariot Parade

**These 5 tributes won favor in my polls that I had for the Chariots. After this, I will do the POVs at random. Enjoy! And, P.S., sorry for the little break. I'm back!**

**Congratulations to:**

**Glace DeBay, District 1**

**Demetrius Silverstreet, District 3**

**Gideon "Glitch" Askey, District 5**

**Gen Himstone, District 8**

**Thomas "Saint" Tellerium, District 12**

**GLACE DEBAY, DISTRICT 1**

"Glace. Glace DeBay," I said, holding my glittery hand out to the dashing boy beside me who smelled like roses. He was beautiful, yes, but so was the girl standing to my left, who I presumed was from District 4. We were all glamourized and plastic-looking, but my district partner, who professed himself as Drakon, and I looked wonderful in sparkling complementing outfits. All of the tributes were gathered in the barn that held our chariots that we would make our first impressions on.

My mind was racing. I tried not to think about the brutal death that may or may not have awaited me, but it seemed strange to have that fate in the midst of all those seemingly normal teenagers. It was a cliquey atmosphere just like a high school cafeteria. Kids were in groups trying to find their potential allies. I, of course, was fraternizing with the Careers.

The kids in the initial group were Drakon, a small girl with black bangs, a tall brown-headed guy, a redheaded guy, a Goth girl, and the blonde chick who I guessed that was from District 4. We got to talking, and I figured out that Emerald, that was the girl's name, was from District 9. She wasn't a Career, but Wren, the brown-headed guy from 2, seemed to like her.

The Goth girl kept eying me in a strange way. She did the same with Drakon; her eyes moved up and down our radiant bodies. "So, are you guys excited?" I said it to break the nervous awkwardness, but the moment I said it I knew I shouldn't have. "Excited? Are you serious?" The small girl with the bangs, who was from District 2, said brashly. Our chariot, pulled by gleaming white horses, pulled up. Finally. Somewhere where I wouldn't be socially uncomfortable.

"Welcome, Glace and Drakon!" Ephraim said. _Great_, I thought. _He bothered to look our names up again._ "Please embark the chariot." Drakon got on first, and he helped me up. The floor was glass, and it felt kind of like we were floating. "Now, remember," Ephraim whispered. "Smile and make them like you. It may be the difference between life and death." Drakon shook his head as Ephraim walked away.

"Good luck," I stammered out. "You, too." He nodded as we took positions on the chariot. Slowly, the horses pulled us out of the barn's opening. The hundreds of thousands of brightly colored people started yelling. I smiled widely, but Drakon stood firm with a blank face. The people, they got to me. I smiled and waved, and they threw flowers at me. I caught one and took a whiff. It was a rose.

Mid-parade, Drakon took it from me. He inhaled it deeply, and I just looked away. He was pretty strange, but I bet he could use a weapon. The Careers are bringing home a victor this year.

I listened to the faint noise of my name being chanted. "Glace! Glace! Glace!" I smiled and waved until the chanting stopped. Someone else had diverted their attention. As we pulled in front of President Snow, I looked at Drakon. He was still inhaling the scent of the rose. I replayed their chanting in my head. Would they chant my name again if I were to win? We'll just have to find out, then.

**DEMETRIUS SILVERSTREET, DISTRICT 3**

I hugged Static tightly the first second I saw her again. She had been crying, and the brightly-colored metallic makeup that had once beautifully adorned her eyeshad been smudged all over her wet face. She choked on her tears. "Shh," I said, stroking her now messy hair. "Demetrius," she sobbed. I held her, and I felt utterly awful that this had to happen.

The kids in the barn were all clumped together socializing. Static and I were in the middle of the awkward mess hugging and crying like maniacs. I told her to quiet down, that we'd be alright. She looked at me and shook her head with a very melancholy look in her eyes. She knew it wasn't true.

"Static, wipe your eyes. Let's go meet people." I wasn't the most social, and neither was Static. Growing up as orphan kids really put a hermit effect on us. I found two teenage guys talking. One was muscular and dark-haired, and one was significantly smaller with blonde hair. I pulled Static's arm to their group.

"Hi," I said to them. "Hey." They both said. I started some small talk about the muscly boy's outfit. He laughed lightheartedly and introduced himself as Darius. The other, quieter boy introduced himself as Saint.

It didn't take long for Static to be blabbering like a parrot. She starting talking about electrical work and I could tell the boys thought she was mentally crazy. Either way, we got along okay. In spite of myself, I said, "Alliance?"

Darius grinned. "Yeah." Saint nodded with a hint of a smile on his face. We looked over to see District 2's chariot being pulled out. "Well, got to go. See you later." I said, pulling the still chattering Static onto the chariot that had motors and gears on four posts extending from the corners. I quite liked it.

Pilaf, the escort for District 3, approached us. "Smile and wave, dearies!" She said energetically. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I just stood still waiting for our arrival. We slowly started progressing as I looked at Static. "We can do this, you know."

"I know." She smiled and waved at the crowd. I knew she knew how to play the game. Together, maybe we could get her home.

**GIDEON "GLITCH" ASKEY, DISTRICT 5**

I was leaning up against the dark back wall as the other kids were talking. I was thinking of a strategy in the Games while shuffling my cards. Should I turn on the charm and make allies now? Should I never have any allies at all? No, no. I needed something more scheme-like, something cleverer. I thought of it then.

I would go out on my own at first. Then I'd find the Careers. Then, after I disown myself from them, I'd find one or two reliable allies to kill off the rest with. It would be easy to go home. Easy-peasy.

I shuffled my cards up some more. I knew that soon I would have to get on the chariot with that weird blonde girl from my district. She would probably have a breakdown on the Chariot and she would mutter something strange like she did before. I wonder if she brought a token with her. Her mother's favorite ruby earrings? A diamond pendant? She'd be up for a game Chase the Ace, I bet.

District 4's odd pair of a Gothic girl and a redheaded boy loaded onto the oceanfront chariot that had (real) dead fish laying all over it. I stuck my bent cards in my pocket as I walked over to embark our dazzling chariot. The blonde girl was there, and she actually looked sort of cute. Her hair was combed and she didn't look as much like a stray mutt as she did back home. I could deal with it.

I didn't say a word to her during the parade, anyways. I guess I was too nervous at the time. We pulled out of the barn in our lit-up chariot as the Capitol people watched us wordlessly. We weren't fan favorites, I guess. We both were kind of funny-looking for the Capitol, even though I'd say they were the messed up ones. As soon as we pulled in front of the shriveled-up President Prune, I turned to the girl.

"I'm Glitch," I said nonchalantly. "Oh, cool. I'm Persephone." She talked like an actual human being. I guess that little play up at the Reaping was out of nerves. "You have any allies?" I said. "No, not yet. I'm looking, though." "Me too." I said. "Well, then, I have a plan." She said. "Let's ally up and find some more during Training. We can find the best fighters there."

I looked at that girl that I once thought was stupid. "Good plan." I said. I genuinely liked it. She grinned. She wasn't looking that stupid at all, actually.

She was looking okay.

**GEN HIMSTONE, DISTRICT 8 **

Vale and I instantly found each other. I hugged her, but I soon realized that I was still, in lack of a better term, friend zoned. She hugged me back, though, and I knew she was trying not to cry. She looked beautiful in her dress, and I just wanted to take her back home. I knew I could at least try.

"Nervous?" I stepped out of the hug as I looked at her. "Yes," she said meekly. I knewshe was holding back tears. I couldn't tell her now how I felt. I really shouldn't tell her in the arena, either, but I guess it was all that I had.

"Listen," I said. "We have to be in these Games. Why don't we be allies, and get together and fight? Two is better than one." She looked into my eyes and replied, "Yes. Absolutely." I held her hand, and at that moment, I was okay with being 'friend-zoned'.

We watched the other kids board the chariots. The girl and boy from four got onto their sea-themed chariot. The 5 kids, 6 kids, and 7 kids were loaded before Vale and I walked towards the loading dock. Our escort, Bartholomew, didn't acknowledge us at all. What a jerk.

I took Vale's hand again, tighter this time. Our horses started moving, and I whispered to her, "Smile and look happy. They will like us." I put on a big, fake, jolly smile as we exited the barn. The Capitol people with skin of all shades of the rainbow screamed at us. They liked us.

"Gen! Vale! Gen! Vale!" I couldn't help myself from almost laughing when I heard their chanting. They looked up our names. I guess they thought that we were lovers.

I guess they liked it even more that we were… hmm, how should I put it… star-crossed lovers? Yes, that's it. We were star-crossed lovers.

**THOMAS "SAINT" TELLERIUM, DISTRICT 12**

The moment I looked at the group of kids, I saw my partner. A big, muscular guy with shaggy black hair stood there alone, and I approached him. "Hey," I said. "I'm Saint, District 12. "Oh, hey. I'm Darius from 10." He extended his large hand. I shook it. I told him about myself, how "irrelevant" I would be in the Games since I had no weapon training. He told me he would teach me how to throw knives in Training. This guy was my hero.

We talked a while more about how we got Reaped and such. A girl and a boy, who I guessed to be from District 3, approached us. We all said our hellos, and then Demetrius, the boy, made a funny comment about Darius's lovely cowboy outfit. Darius had a good sense of humor, and he laughed like a small boy. I couldn't help but laugh, too.

Demetrius cut right to the chase. He asked us about an alliance. I said sure, why not. The girl, Static, seemed impeccably smart and Demetrius seemed so as well. _We could use that_, I thought. After the District 3 kids had left to board their chariot, Darius and I chatted more.

I learned that he was unimpeachable with a knife, and he was kin of ancient Rebellion leaders. That was good in my book, since I disliked the Capitol. I told him about the origin of my nickname, and that spawned a good laugh. We got along like buddies. Buddies who, if they had the chance, could kill each other.

We watched the chariots drone on. District 5, 6, and 7 all were loaded and sent off as 8 and 9 pulled up. "Hey, meet me in Training," Darius said. "Will do," I replied as he walked off to meet a pretty girl who loaded the 10 chariot, too. I walked over to the remaining people. There was the mayor's son's wife, looking miserable while standing alone. I could have easily guessed just from her expression that she was from lovely District 12.

"Hi," I said. "You're Cammelia, right?" I don't know how her name came to me, but it did. "Yes," She said. "Well, I thought I'd wish you good luck." I saw out of the corner of my eye that the 11 kids were loading. "Thanks, you too. I hope one of us wins. You know, for our district." She walked to the chairiot. I nodded in agreement, surprised at how charismatic I was being.

Our coal-themed chariot pulled out. Our escort was nowhere to be found. I felt bad for Percalia; she had been stuck with 12, the "worst" district, for all these years. Rumor had it that she was moving up to 5 next year, but who knows for sure?

I watched as we departed the barn. The Capitol people were going wild over Darius and the girl. I smiled for him. Having a liked ally was not shabby, and I really thought that he seemed trustworthy. I waved a bit, but Cammelia just stood there. It wasn't long before we pulled right in front of President Snow.

He was a small, shriveling old man. He reminded me of something, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He stood up and walked to the front of his balcony. "Welcome, tributes." I looked behind him to see the Head Gamemaker, a young man who had dark hair and eyes. "We have a lot in store for you this year. I'm hoping to see the strongest one of you all victorious. Happy Hunger Games," he sighed dramatically. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

A snake. That's it. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who caught how his tongue flickered, or how his body moved. He was an old snake, that's what it was. I grasped the chariot as we made a circle back into the barn. Hopefully, the odds would be in my favor.

If not, I don't know what I'm going to do.

**Hello! Hope you liked the Chariots. I'm going to be very, very busy this month (braces off, vacation, play performances, parades, my birthday, Christmas, a whole bunch of other stuff) so I will apologize in advance if I'm not posting very often. After the holidays, I will be able to get this done. I hope you like the tributes!**

**The next POVs will be random. I'm excited! Take care, and thanks for reading!**


	15. Training, Day 1

**POVs in this chapter are:**

**Wren Davis, District 2**

**Islera Halsey, District 4**

**Peach Parchwood, District 7**

**Emerald Claire, District 9**

**WREN DAVIS, DISTRICT 2**

My eyes widened in amazement as I saw the weapons. Silver-plated, expensive ones that were nothing like the ones at the training academy in 2 were scattered around in stations. A lady in a red and black suit matching ours came forward. "Welcome, tributes. I am Atala, your head trainer." I looked throughout the stations as she spoke. Sword fighting first? Or archery?

I didn't realize that Atala dismissed us to train until the kids flew off in different directions like a released pack of starved hounds. _Shit_! I thought. The lines for sword fighting and archery were already extensive before I got there. I decided to scope out the other tributes until the lines simmered down. The other stations, like fire building and knot tying, were typical skills that we learned at the academy, and I had them down pat.

I walked past sword fighting nonchalantly. A burly, non-Career boy from District 9 was slinging the hefty weapon around amateurishly with the unimpressed training helper. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't stop thinking about how much he looked like a nine-year-old girl.

Finally, some good stuff. I walked to the knife throwing station and the girl from District 1 was hitting her marks with a sharp blade. The boy from 4, the redhead, was doing alright, too, but nothing spectacular. The gorgeous blonde girl from 9 who wanted to join our group stood in line. I thought I'd watch her, just to make sure she belonged with us.

She walked confidently up to the stand that held a wide array of pointed blades. She chose a thin, curved one, swung her arm back, and released in an inept fashion. Miss. The first one she threw didn't hit the large target at all. She yelped in fury, and I just decided to walk away, but not before she made eye contact with me. I made a mental note to tell the others that she was psycho and incompetent. After I made a complete lap, the archery station was clear. I took my place.

It was just like at the academy. I zoned in on the moving target, and I drew back the string nocked with an immaculate arrow. I aimed right under the center, and a bullseye was my response. I shot four more, and they were all in a little group. Success.

The sound of applause from behind me made me jump. A group of 5, including the girl from 1, my district partner, who I noticed had a black eye, the psycho girl, the redheaded guy, and a goth-looking girl, clapped towards me. I smirked casually, and said, "You must be the Careers." The pretty, icy-looking girl from 1 stepped forward and shook my hand. "My name is Glace. Welcome to the Careers."

I nodded, knowing that the majority of the group was good enough to roll with me. That one girl, the crazy knife thrower, wasn't going to last long. _Yes_, I thought, as I felt for the picture of my mother that I had put in the pocket of my tight, spandex pants. _I can win this thing. I know it._

**ISLERA HALSEY, DISTRICT 4**

Imbeciles. Neanderthals. Teenagers. The lot of them surrounded me, and we all wore a tight-fitting suit that made me yearn for a long skirt. Atala, the trainer, dismissed us, and the adolescents scattered off in every direction.

If this were a game of wits, it would be obvious who the winner would be.

I took my time walking around. I hadn't thought of anything further than the Reaping, and I still didn't know what to do then. I had no weapon training and no experience. However, I was a Career who had a perfectly explicable reason for bloodshed lust… revenge.

I knew I was a quick learner, so I stood in line for some sort of knife throwing. The assistant trainer stood by, just observing casually. I took my place out of line to ask him for help.

"Sure," he said, handing me a blade. It felt cold and stale in my hand. "Hold it with the tip going down. That's how you throw it." His tone of voice clearly expressed to me that he was being as patient as he could muster. I was only a beginner, though. I flipped the knife over, tip down, and squeezed the handle until my knuckles turned whiter than my unusually pale skin.

"There you are. Now, aim for the middle of the target. That there is called a bullseye." _How stupid does he think I am_? I thought. I made sure to hold form, and as I released the knife, a reassuring thud let me know it hit the target. It wasn't quite a bullseye, but it was close.

I stayed at that station for quite some time. I ended up being a consistent thrower, and by the end of my session, a clump of ebony handles protruding from the red dot in the center restored my confidence in the act of my volunteering. I thanked the assistant, and I walked off to fraternize. I knew I needed allies to help me progress through the unknown arena.

A girl, the girl from District 1, stood there like a lost child next to the fire starting station. I walked up to her, the one I knew I would kill, and I smiled optimistically. "You must be from District 1," I extended my hand. "I'm Islera, from District 4." She smiled and shook back tentatively. "I'm Glace."

My tongue flickered in the back of my throat, and I thought about how profoundly Hezekiah would describe such a situation as I was in. Not backstabbing, because she didn't have my trust yet. Not lying, because I hadn't told a lie yet, either. The best way to describe it was that I was simply acting. Acting is profound, correct?

We talked for a while, and she turned out to be an accurate knife thrower, too, she says. Also, she professed she taught herself karate. Well, aren't you something! I nodded back in compliance without saying anything. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Or maybe it will.

"Well, Islera, I see we have a common interest." She smiled deviously. "I say we team up, if that thought wasn't already in your mind."

"Of course. Any other Careers joined up?" _Yes. Exactly as planned._ "Well, I'm not sure about the guy from my district. He didn't seem very interested at chariots about joining our alliance, and he hasn't spoken to me since. We also have both from 2, and they're good fighters, plus the guy from your district and a girl from 9. I'm not sure about her talents."

I nodded as if I were intrigued. "Interesting," I remarked. She curled her lips up into what I would describe as a coyote's smile. Wicked and enchanting, all at the same time. "Yes, and now that we have you, we can go further. Careers will have a victor this year."

Yes, Glace. They will. But I promise you that the victor won't hail from District 1.

**PEACH PARCHWOOD, DISTRICT 7**

It was intimidating. I missed the warm comfort of the fire and the soft, clean vanilla scent of home. I wondered vaguely if my parents missed me. I betted that they did, and I couldn't help but think of the lonely placemat on the dinner table that has my name on it. All it is now is an empty chair.

After her mandatory speech, the trainer, Atala, blew her whistle, and I ran to see what stations were available. The room was dark and dingy, with a few overhanging lights that looked like they were going to collapse any second. You'd think they could afford better, but the weapons were like nothing I've ever seen before. I've seen the typical war axes used for lumber back home, but I had never seen such beautiful and remarkable weapons.

The swords, lying on a protective metal rack, were all carved intricately with lethal swirling designs in silver. The bows were pure platinum and shining like diamonds. There were other deadly-looking weapons, too, and some I had never seen anywhere before. I looked around for somewhere I could go, someone like me… and then I saw her.

She was about my size and height, and she had raven hair with uneven bangs. I assumed she was my age, and she was waiting in line for knife throwing with another older girl. I slowly walked up to them, put on a happy smile, and I chirped, "Hi!"

The older, blonde girl snickered. "Hey, Happy." The girl that looked about my age laughed, too. "I'm Peach, from 7," I said, with noticeably less enthusiasm, "and I just wanted to talk to you guys." "Well, hey. I'm Emerald, from 9." Said the blonde girl. "I'm Trace, from 2." The girl my age said monotonously. If all the girls here were this tough and lackluster, I knew I'd have trouble making friends.

But was that really what I was there for? No, and that's where I went wrong.

"So, you throw?" Trace had her arms crossed, and I knew she was hard-hitting. "Not really," I said. "Well, what do you do?" Emerald cocked her head to the side. "Well, I'm not really sure…" I trailed off and Trace intervened. "You're not sure?" She laughed. "Frilly goody-two shoes doesn't know what to do." Emerald laughed at Trace's mean comment. "Look who's talking, emo!" It escaped me before I knew what came about.

Emerald's face went blank. "What'd you just call her?" "I-" "No, what did you just call her?" Emerald got up in my face, her shoulders right in front of my eyes. I straightened up and gained confidence. There should be no physical contact between two tributes before arena time, Atala said. What was the worst that she could do?

"I said she was emo. Have a problem with that, bimbo?" I snickered. My first putdowns weren't all that shabby. "Yeah, I do!" Emerald yelled, but then Trace pulled her back. "It's okay, Em, I got this. You wanna throw down, Princess? Let's go, bitch!" I laughed, and my pristine, long, blonde hair shook around me. I decided not to let anyone walk over me.

You wanna go, emo? Oh, it's on.

**EMERALD CLAIRE, DISTRICT 9**

The scrap didn't last long until two Peacekeepers hauled the screaming, hysterical pair of belligerent tweens away. I couldn't help but laugh in spite of myself. Bimbo? Really? I've heard of toddlers who insult better than that spoiled bitch.

As soon as the large, dim room was quiet of gossip from that little scuffle, I decided to get back in line for knife throwing. I went up to the first target and grabbed a knife. I didn't know how to hold the thing, but I tried to reach my dad's talent through my DNA. My instincts wanted to hold it with the blade up, so I went with that.

The target looked really small, and I couldn't help but get intimidated. I've never thrown a knife before, or any weapon, for that matter. Could I even do it?

Of course I could. I'm the best. I'm Emerald Claire.

I held the knife firmly, and as I drew my arm back, I locked my eyes on the center of the target. I swung my arm forward, and… it missed. It missed the target completely. The handle jutted out of the wall that separated the thrower's stands and the target. I sucked.

It kicked in then. Can I not use knives? Can I use any weapon at all? Maybe not, but I have something I can use to my advantage.

Bimbo, hmm? I stuck my chest out, and as I turned around, I locked eyes with the hot guy from District 2. If I can't kill people with weapons, I'll just get some guy to do it for me.

There's a strategy for me. I watched the guy as he walked away. Fine, play hard to get. But once you talk to me again, I'll have you under my trance. After that, all the boys will be putty in my hands. Defenseless, lovestruck, murderous putty.

**Hey guys! Hope you liked Day 1 of training, and thank you to all of my patient and reliable supporters! I'm sorry if I didn't get this up in time for you to read it on the 20****th****, but it's only 9:00 where I live. I hope to make another training chapter, then interviews, and then the arena before spring break! This is exciting. Thanks again, and see you all soon!**


End file.
